


close your eyes

by blobfish_miffy



Series: requests! [2]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Boys In Love, Cutesy, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, but here he is, george is also soft for toast, george is soft for ringo, he likes to sleep in, i do not know, request, ringo isn't a morning person, starrison, was george a morning person?, who isn't tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 09:50:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20833493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blobfish_miffy/pseuds/blobfish_miffy
Summary: George blinked."Is that… is that my shirt?"**Originally posted on my tumblr, requested by casafrass





	close your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> casafrass asked:  
From the prompt list, 36? Starrison perhaps? :) 💛

Early mornings were deliciously relaxing to George. Though sleeping in late had its attractive perks(namely being allowed to be curled around Ritchie for a little while longer), there was something about the sharp freshness of the world before the clock struck seven that had him crawling out from under the pleasant warmth of the covers. Early mornings allowed his mind to wander without the panicky time pressure that rolling out of bed at nine brought: he now had the time to get ready for filming without running or losing his breath, without pouring scalding tea down his throat, and without tripping over his own two feet. He even had the time to make himself breakfast - and somehow, his own buttered toast tasted better than those served at the set of  _ A Hard Days Night.  _

Stirring some sugar and milk in his scalding tea, George shivered and closed his eyes briefly. The only thing less enjoyable about these early, calming mornings was him missing out on the warmth of his bed- and Ringo. Especially Ringo.  _ Mainly _ Ringo. It was here, behind the safe walls of their little apartment, that they could be themselves entirely. It was alright here to kiss without hiding in the constricting confines of a closet or the depressing isolation of a dressing room, and it was alright here to tear each other's clothes off without checking and rechecking that the door was locked. It was thus here where George felt the most comfortable about burying his head in the crook of Ritchie's neck and swinging his leg over Ritchie's hip as they slept and slumbered, because he  _ could _ . 

George took a slow bite of his buttered toast - dear God, it was  _ so much better  _ than that abomination they dare call toast on set - and chewed leisurely, staring blankly at the view displayed by the decently large windows. Ritchie had not yet awoken (only interrupting his own snoring to groan when George managed to untangle himself, and then proceeding to almost slap George in the face as he turned to snooze on his back) and the apartment was awfully silent, only sound in the kitchen the ticking of the clock and his own chewing. 

The slight dryness of his throat now made the tea more attractive and he gently blew on the liquid to cool it down a tad; even though it was  _ real  _ fuckin' cold in the apartment George didn't care for a burned oesophagus nor for a blistering tongue. As he wrapped his fingers around the china, he got ready to take a sip. 

Right at that moment the kitchen door opened with a squeak: Ritchie made his presence known with a muttered  _ "gotta oil that goddamn door",  _ shuffling into the kitchen. With his hair askew from his tossing and turning and eyes puffy with sleep, he looked so unbelievably adorable that it was probably  _ illegal.  _ As the older boy took his time taking a teacup out of the cupboard, George appreciatively let his eyes slide over his boyfriend's slim form, smiling at the sight of bare toes, unbuttoned trousers, and the small line of visible skin between the unfastened belt and loose  _ California _ t-shirt that had pleasantly ridden up as the boy had stretched- 

_ Wait.  _

The teacup paused halfway towards his mouth, hot liquid inside wafting steam against his tired face. George blinked. 

_ "Is that… is that my shirt?" _

Ringo froze in his position, on his tippy toes and delicate china between his long fingers, before he slowly turned his head in George's direction. 

"Mornin'," he rasped, looking like he got caught doing something naughty. 

"Mornin'," George replied, and a grin was starting to grow on his face. "Is that my shirt?" 

A startlingly blue gaze darted from George to the shirt in question, and to his surprise(and  _ delight)  _ Ritchie started to  _ blush.  _

"Oh," he said meekly. "I think- I think it  _ is-"  _

The grin was starting to grow bigger. 

"I'm _ sorry,"  _ Ritchie muttered, and he placed his teacup on the counter before running an anxious hand through his hair, "I jus' picked up the first thing I saw, cos- cos I was  _ naked,  _ y'see, an'-" 

"'s fine," George interrupted him, sliding out of his seat and swiftly walking towards his boyfriend,  _ "truly.  _ It's fine. It looks good on ye." 

Ritchie's blush darkened.  _ "Oh."  _

"Yeah," he reached for the hem of the shirt and tugged on it, before placing another hand on Ringo's neck. "But I'd like ye to take it off, now." 

The answering smile made his stomach flutter and his palms sweat, and his dick twitched when Ritchie leaned forward with a whispered  _ "that can be arranged". _

And despite George's early morning, they ended up rushing to set that day anyway- but  _ God,  _ was it worth it. 


End file.
